


wildflowers

by milkvan



Series: The City Is At War [2]
Category: GFriend (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, F/F, F/M, Gen, Past Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2016-10-17
Packaged: 2018-08-22 23:39:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8305645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milkvan/pseuds/milkvan
Summary: two girls escape the city, in order to live. two girls who are wildflowers, who will survive and make joy wherever they go





	

The note was tucked securely into the padlock that hung on the gates of the Nuclear Weapon Museum when the pair of girls trudged up to the decrepit building, early in the morning. Snowy white against the cold grey of the metal chains, crisp and folded into half, Sowon would have missed it altogether if Shinbi hadn’t leaned against the gates with the loud clang of metal rattling against metal rising into the dusty air, and the note fluttering to the ground. 

Anybody else would have given the tiny square of paper a puzzled look before crushing it into an insignificant ball and tossing it away, for the strings of letter smashed together in Jongdae’s handwriting did not make much sense at first look. But over the years, Shinbi had played enough code-breaking games with the pair of siblings to recognize a few of the codes Jongdae would use. This one, in particular, is only used when the note-writer was in a situation where caution and careful planning were of utmost importance to their survival.

Deciphering the code in a split-second wasn’t so difficult for her, her mind already racing to break down the consonants and vowels of the different characters, before applying the rules of the code and moving the symbols into the places they were meant to be in the original message. 

_“I’m gone. Don’t try to look for me, don’t leave this place till I can make plans to take you and Shinbi out of the zone.”_

Reaching out to steady Sowon before the older girl slid to the ground, holding Sowon’s sobs-wrecked frame in her arms and feeling the tears soaking her blouse – that was the part that broke her heart wholly and thoroughly, as her own breaths quivered against the crown of the other girl. 

Sowon’s cries were raw and engulfing, and tears pricked at Sinbi’s eyes. The sun, relentless and merciless, was no comfort to either of the girls, just a huge giant ball of fiery reminder that everything burns in this world, including the trail of tears on their cheeks and even their own hearts.

 

 

Six months was enough time for thick layers of dust to coat the untrodden entrance of the Nuclear Weapon Museum, for the metal chains to sink lower around the rusting gates, as if the owner’s abandonment manifested into a living, breathing creature that sat on top of the place and dug its gloomy claws into the building. 

Whenever Shinbi loses herself in the winding alleys of the desolated neighbourhood where the museum sits in the centre, the sight of empty storefronts and forsaken roadside stalls grips her heart tightly in the cold of painful nostalgia. It just seemed to be last summer when the streets came bustling alive under the bright sun, with the aroma of various delicious food from the food festivals wafting through the crowd and delighted laughter at winning a carnival game rising to the skies. 

Now, a perpetual winter traps the buildings in the greyness of its dust and smog, and the cutting iciness in the eyes of the remaining citizens makes the place unsafe for two girls left to fend for themselves in the dispirited city. 

The six months without Jongdae have not been easy for both girls. Since the day the note was tucked into the gates of the museum, Shinbi has, without any hesitation and despite the superior’s tearful protests and concerns, moved out of the orphanage and into Sowon’s apartment. Arms locked around each other, they lie on the older girl’s bed night after night with their hammering heartbeats matching in rhythm, in fear of what the darkness outside the apartment might unleash on them. 

The rations they get from the government are barely enough to sustain them – after all, how much can the barcodes of two teenage girls (one orphaned) can get – but still, the younger girl insists in saving a portion of their food and necessities for that one day when they might have to leave the city. 

No matter how many times she lies through her teeth and says “things are fine, we will be okay and safe here” to Sowon, there’s still a certain disquiet within her that makes her sensitive to every movement within the city walls and every footstep she hears around her. 

The disquiet might have started when she overheard Minseok and Jongdae talking about the secrets they had managed to unearth, dark truths the government have been keeping from the citizens about the destruction so many years ago that befell the civilized world. To a young girl of her age, there were two choices stretched out to her at that time: to believe the seemingly incredulous words of the two older guys, or to continue believing the façade the city puts on in the day. 

She made her choice then, and now she makes another – one that also bears the heavy responsibility of keeping Sowon and her alive, along with the throbbing time-bomb embedded in the black thin lines on their napes. 

( _“Do you know the difference between a frog in a pot of boiling water, and a frog in a pot of cool water that is slowly brought to a boil? One jumps out while another stays to be cooked.”_ )

 

 

A new kind of danger roams along the streets of the city, dressed in black and armed with a ruthless tenacity. Though it remains camouflaged by the darkness of alleys, the aftermath of its cruelty can be felt in the trembling soundwaves of muffled screams and the lines of soles dragged through the sand. When rumours circulate in the underground market about disappearing youths and experiments being carried out in the university’s basements, the disquiet grows into a kind of deep anxiety that rattles Shinbi’s bones and gnaws painfully in her chest. 

The nightmares start the day Eunseo’s mother phones the apartment and asks about her daughter’s whereabouts, the quiet panic and desperation in her voice rising with every word exchanged before the line is cut off. Muted, Shinbi sets the phone down and returns to the dining table without saying a word to Sowon about the phone call, but the strangled sob of the mother haunts her in the darkness of her dreams every night. Hands quivering and breaths gasping, she wakes up with panic wild in her eyes and she can only calm down when a warm hand grasps her arm, pulling her down unto the bed and into the safety of Sowon’s arms. 

(She has always been the stronger one, scaring away boys and bullies with her intimidating glares, cutting words and as a last resort, the quick reflexes of a shin to the most vulnerable body part. In contrast, Sowon has stars in her eyes and possesses a certain radiance that is as graceful and kind as the moon of the night sky. 

And yet, it is always and only Sowon who catches Shinbi when she falls, whose light always lead her home whenever she’s surrounded by despairing darkness.)

Time is running out and if Eunseo really has been taken, then that means the both of them might be next in line to be dragged, kicking and screaming into the basements, never to feel the sunlight on their skin again. 

So they make daily trips to the West border for the next two weeks, displaying a winsome smile when they are caught loitering in the rundown restaurant near the security posts, taking note of the times and the checking procedures whenever a delivery truck enter or leave the city. With resources as scarce as theirs and no one else to rely on, they could only look to the delivery trucks as their ticket out of the city. 

Though they sound like fools putting all their eggs in one basket, this basket ridden with holes is really all they have to keep them from being slaughtered, like chickens in a poultry farm. 

 

 

The day they decide to leave, the sun was shining uncharacteristically bright and the fresh air, clear of dust and smog, fills their lungs with not just the sweetness of oxygen, but also of hope, something they haven’t felt in years. 

Needing a disguise as helpers of the delivery companies, if anyone were to ask later, they dress in simple white shirts, sweatpants and sneakers. Though Sowon doesn’t say a word, Shinbi silently steps out of the apartment so as to give her some time alone with the lingering phantoms of her memories (Jongdae laughing in the kitchen, the three of them getting competitive over a game of Risk in the living room, the innocence of two girls staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to the ceiling of her room). 

Sowon walks through the doorway, locks the door on her entire life and throws the house keys down the drain. Her hand shake but Shinbi’s hand around hers is firm and that is comfort enough for both girls. They don’t look back, not even once, and their footsteps echo heavily in the empty corridor with the finality of their decision. 

 

 

The bus ride to the West border takes half an hour and throughout the trip, a heavy unease weighs down Shinbi’s heart while a heady thrill courses strongly through her body, riding on the waves of her bloodstream. The conflict between the sensations intoxicates her, keeping her mellow and dazed to the point when she no longer knows whether she’s a prisoner being led to her execution or a sailor on the day of her maiden sail voyage. 

Likewise, Sowon’s expression remains blank as her fingers cling tightly around the fabric of her backpack. Her eyes are clouded by unwelcomed thoughts that the younger girl can’t do anything about, except to hold both her hands. Fingers fitted in the gaps between fingers, the side of their knees bump into each other’s as the bus takes them straight to the mouth of the lion. 

( _“Save me from the lion’s mouth; From the horns of the wild oxen You answer me.”_ Eight-year-old Shinbi mouthed after Sister Mary, without much thought and faith accompanying the words. Ten years later, she recites the same prayer in her head with a desperate heart and none of the faith she now wishes she has.)

They wind up at the restaurant again, surrounded by loud words and hollow guffaws of the truck drivers. Their fingers nervously gripped the cup of terrible coffee they ordered, and though bile and fear clogs up Shinbi’s throat, she forces the tteokbokki down her throat, hoping against hope that her feeble attempts of normalcy are convincing enough. 

The man with long hair pulled back in a ponytail is here again, throwing dirty looks at them and mumbling angrily under his breath ever since they entered the restaurant. It’s the same guy who sits at the table next to theirs every day they’re here. Though Shinbi soon realized that he’s one of the truck drivers, his disparaging stares unnerve her and she knows for sure that in the dire situation if they’re caught escaping, he’ll be a foe more than a friend. 

(Not that they have any friends to begin with.)

He’s glaring at them again when she turns in his direction and there’s a flare of urge to snap at him, but she stops herself just when the angry words are at the tip of her tongue. Now is definitely not the time to make a scene and attract any attention, she reminds herself and all she can be satisfied with is how he turns away after she shoots him a furious glare. 

Outside, the new shift of patrol soldiers travels up the street to take their positions around the border while the previous shift of soldiers trudge tiredly back to the office. Perfect timing, Shinbi is already starting to be sick from the nerves, the terrible food in front of her and the squeeze in her chest. Maybe she’ll feel better once they are on the move, once her body goes on fight-or-flight mode and she doesn’t have to think, letting her instincts take over. 

“So… w-yul, we should go now.” 

The older girl’s eyes widen in fear but quickly schools her face to an expression of nonchalance as they link arms and wordlessly exit the restaurant. They are just two normal teenage girls, recently employed the delivery companies – that’s what Shinbi keeps telling herself and she knows Sowon is doing the same when she hears “don’t say anything, don’t let anyone scan my barcode” under the girl’s breath. 

Trucks drive past them in a rush, throwing up sand and gravel unto the pavement. There is nothing but waves of heat lines obstructing them in their path towards the end, as if vengeful spirits of those who died during the bombings had risen to exact their final revenge on the living for being the lucky ones to survive. (At this point, no one can truly say whether the dead or the alive are the fortunate ones; the only thing differentiating one group from another is the curse of memories and guilt, and the curse of life itself.)

Another few metres to go before Shinbi has to lie through her teeth to the patrol soldiers, their guns clasped to their bosom, for protection or for the shedding of blood, she can’t tell. 

Fifty more steps before she knows whether God has heard her faithless prayer.

Six minutes before-

“Hey ladies, where do you think you are going?” 

-the soldiers look through their pretences and lies-

Large hands clamp down hard on each of the girls’ shoulder and before they can scream, they are roughly whirled around to meet a terrifying scowl of, neither God nor Hades, but the man from the restaurant. 

Shinbi’s first thought is to kick him in the crotch, more out of rage than of fear, but the man quickly loosens his grip on their shoulders. It may very well be the heat and the stress of the situation making her imagine things that aren’t really there, but in that moment, she senses a certain protective nature to the man’s hold on her and Sowon. 

Squeezing the other girl’s hand tightly, she smiles timidly at the man’s conspiratorial wink sent to the both of them before his back straightens in a reprimanding stance. “Rascals, where are you going when we’re about to load up and leave?”

The sheen in his eyes probably appears reproachful enough under the reflection of the sun because the soldiers do not approach them with suspicions stiffening their demeanour. But in the close distance between them, the glint is a playful one that grows triumphant, knowing that he has successfully fooled the soldiers. 

Now she’s certain that he is more friend than foe – a conclusion that Sowon doesn’t dare to share, from the way she tugs Shinbi’s hand urgently when he ushers them to the truck with a dramatic display of frustration. 

“Trust me, we’ll be fine.” The usual words tumble out of the younger girl’s mouth in a whisper, with practiced ease and none of the deceit this time round. The unease and fear clouding the older girl’s eyes fade and together, they head to the truck.

(She has always known that Sowon will trust her and will follow her to the ends of the world. 

Because she will do the same and more for the other.)

 

 

They can’t quite believe when the truck drives past the gates easily without so much as a wave from the soldiers, can’t quite believe when the city is nothing but a tiny dot, swallowed by the storm of dust and sand from the roads in the truck’s mirror. Any minute now, Shinbi expects to wake up on sweat-soaked sheets and her heart pounding at the back of her throat, but she doesn’t and she learns to unclench her fists as they continue their way past ruins of houses and buildings, open to the skies like sacrifices made to the god of destruction. 

In kind consideration of the two teenage girls, the driver fiddles with the knobs of the music player and a stream of pop songs issues from the muffled speakers. Sowon visibly relaxes, drumming long fingers on the backpack while Shinbi sings along, under her breath. Unadulterated sunrays stream in through the window and are splayed unto their faces generously, very much similar to the times they sit together on the bus on their school trips and camps, always with a pair of earphones shared between them and their breaths from whispers grazing each other’s skin.

“My son used to love singing out loud to these songs in here, and I’m not bragger but he had such a great voice that could hit every single high note.” The man speaks out of the blue, his laughter jovial before his smile turns sad and desperately empty. “Today would have been his nineteenth birthday if he was still here.”

Suddenly, colours fade from Shinbi’s vision and even though the songs are still playing – the beats of the bass guitar and drums still vibrating off the old leather of the seats – static is all she hears through the roaring in her ears. 

 

 

The roar in her ears fade away and in the breeze caressing her face, she smells the saltiness of the ocean nearby and hears the soft rustling of the flowers around her. She doesn’t know how she winds up in the middle of the huge field where the expanse of the tall and bright flowers seems to go on and on, till the edge of the world. 

Sunflowers. 

It’s been such a long time since she last saw one; the bombings wiped out whatever colours and life nature had always been so willing to supply. The last time she held the thick stalk of one, it was given by someone special and now there’s nothing but a memory squeezing her heart tight. 

“I didn’t know you will miss me this much, truthfully I’m touched.” 

The voice is all too sarcastic, as usual, and all too achingly familiar. The grin the other is wearing is wide, full of teeth and cheekiness, and she recalls fondly the way he smiles every time she presses a quick kiss on his lips. His fingers are as long as she remembers them to be and gentle as they wipe away the tears she didn’t even know she is shedding. The tears continue to come, the sobs continue to escape from her heaving chest and Seokmin continues to hold her close, so close that she can still hear his heartbeat through bones, muscles and skin – a comforting sound, despite the truth and everything she has experienced after his death. 

“Jerk.” She manages to say when the sobs subside and Seokmin’s laughter rings out loud above the sunflowers; obnoxious and penetrating enough to sink under her skin and fill the emptiness in her chest. 

“Hwang Shinbi, you aren’t the daintiest flower in the garden. You’re rough and intimidating but that also means you’re tough, tenacious and determined. I mean every word I said when I asked you out – you’re a wildflower, and you will survive and make joy wherever you go. _A fire may burn every living thing in a field, but after the rain the wildflowers will reappear as though by magic. Winter may come and kill everything with frost and snow, but when spring comes the wildflower will blossom again, and they will be magnificent._ You are the magnificent joy of this world and nothing can stop you from surviving and growing. I need you to remember this because your road is going to be difficult from now on.” 

“Why can’t I just stay here with you?” Her voice breaks from the desperateness rising from the depths of her heart, claws as sharp as the memories of their times together. 

“Because Sowon needs you, more than ever and you two have always belonged to each other, I knew from the beginning. Take care of her and allow her to take care of you too, you know how much she wants to do so. I would end this dream with saying I love you and that I’ll always be watching over you … but of course you already know that this is just your own subconscious talking.”

She laughs, a full hearty one that she hadn’t been able to let out in a long time and the wind takes the dulcet sounds of it away to the wide expanse of blueness, while the swaying sunflowers envelopes them in the infinity of this moment. 

“But who knows, maybe I am really watching over you… If not, why would a random stranger go out of his way to smuggle you out of the city?”

When she wakes up, groggy and dazed, in the moving truck, she vaguely recalls the yellowness of the field around her and the feeling of soft lips gently pressed to her forehead. 

 

 

The truck stops on an empty road on the edge of a dense forest with trees growing so close to each other that it seems unwelcoming and menacing. And that’s when Shinbi starts to panic again, especially when scenes from television shows and movies of murder and other atrocious acts done to young girls flash in her mind in quick succession. 

But the driver only turns to regard them with tired eyes. “There’s an underground hospital where the data in your barcodes can be manipulated so that the government can’t track you. Do you have a compass with you?” 

“I do.” Sowon says quietly, her fingers unconsciously running down the fabric of her backpack, as if it could reach Jongdae’s compass sitting safely among her clothes. 

Without a word, the man gets off from the truck and the girls unwillingly leaves the safety of the vehicle and for a moment, Shinbi feels lost and helpless. Everything has come down to leaving the city but anything beyond that, she has never once thought or planned for. What if the rural areas are just as dangerous as the government-controlled zones? Who is to say that they won’t meet their end outside of the city? 

How kind can the open wastelands be to two girls? 

These thoughts continuously circle in her mind as she tugs Sowon to the back of the truck, where the man is waiting for them with two bags of food and water bottles. “This is all I can give without the company finding out. One packet is for the both of you, and the other is for the guys in the hospital. Head northwest and you’ll be able to see a shed; knock four times on the back door and someone will come for you.”

Both hands stuffed into his pockets, the man lowers his gaze to the ground and there’s a sliver of hesitation in the air, packed full with his unwillingness to let the girls go but also knowing full well that he can’t bring them along with him too. 

“I wish you both the most fortunate of luck.”

“Ahjussi… I don’t know how we can ever thank you enough for everything you’ve done for us.” How ironic must life be that they have only met a few hours ago and already, Shinbi feels the most heartfelt of emotions towards him – a mix of gratitude, guilt and a kind of connection that is probably similar to one between a father and a daughter.

“Just- Live a life that my son couldn’t.” There’s a faraway look in the man’s eyes, as if he’s not quite seeing them but his son, or rather the memories he shared with the boy (the first step of the boy, the first time the son learned to ride the bicycle and the different school graduations of the boy’s growing years). 

“Can I ask? What was his name?” The question had to be asked, Shinbi needs to know. There’s a lot of reasons behind her question – to soothe her guilt away, to put a name to the boy who might very have saved Sowon and herself- but most importantly, when all else fails, to remind herself that she’s no longer living for herself and that she has to survive, no matter what.

“… Seokmin. His name was Lee Seokmin.”

 

 

If Hakyeon – the man who came after they knocked on the back door of the shed, as instructed by the driver- had noticed the puffy eyelids and the remaining tears in Shinbi’s eyes, he did not comment on it when he led the girls into the underground hospital. In fact, he’s cheerful and yet, gentle in his coddling as he strongly encouraged her to drink the mug of ginger tea before he goes to prepare for the process of removing the data from their barcodes.

The same thing could be said of the tattooist, an obscenely tall male who goes by the name of Taekwoon, though very few words leave through the line of pursed lips. 

(“I’m pretty sure they are dating each other.”, Sowon whispers to her when they are left alone in the room and their fingers are entwined together again. Shinbi doesn’t say anything but a small sad smile appears on her face when she realizes the unspoken words hanging in the air.

 _“Just like us.”_ )

“Have you thought of what you want as a tattoo to cover the barcodes?” 

The older girl thought for a moment, looking all over the room before she quietly takes out the pressed flower, tucked neatly in between Jongdae’s notebook. 

“Snowdrop, flower language for _hope in arduous times_. It’s fitting for you.” Taekwoon nods to himself, like a little kid who has just solved a difficult math question in class. 

( _“You are the magnificent joy of this world and nothing can stop you from surviving and growing.”_ )

“Sunflowers.” 

Shinbi’s voice is soft, mellow and full of something she can’t explain right now, but perhaps when someone ask later, perhaps she can answer “ _love that enables you to continue living, even though everything you love is gone”_. 

“Sunflowers that are brighter than the sun.”

**Author's Note:**

> \- the analogy about frogs are from anthony doerr's _all the light we cannot see_  
>  \- the analogy about wildflowers are from ken liu's "the literomancer" in his anthology of short stories, _the paper menagerie and other stories_
> 
> thank you the mods for this fun team fic challenge, and mostly thank you W and V for this brilliant AU!


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